


My Life Is Not My Own

by twisted_thyme



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Dark, Domestic Violence, Don't Like Don't Read, HANK WILL NOT ASSAULT CONNOR THO, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Omega Abuse, Omega Connor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Sort Of, alpha Hank, and then gets to all that nasty shit above, but no mpreg, confused and capable of ass-kicking cinnamon roll connor, connor has a hard time breaking from the obedience mindset, even if i make it seem like its gonna happen, extreme violence, it wont, second sex hierarchy, starts off vanilla af, tsundere hank, ummmm unwillingness to accept feelings, which doesn't happen with the protags but the crimes, with cum and bites and whatever other shit my nasty mind adds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15556245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisted_thyme/pseuds/twisted_thyme
Summary: It was never the feel of cold snow against his skin, or the sight of white flying down and coating the air, it was always the sound. The sound of a Detroit snowstorm, without fail, left the man's hair standing on edge, eyes snapping shut as he evaded flitting images of screaming omegas, howls carrying in the storm and ringing in his ears even hours after their trails of beaten out blood froze rock solid on the pavement at his feet.-or-In a world where wars are started and ended by alphas, society at the mercy of their command, omegas are nothing but objects, a commodity for each alphas to do as they please with. After years of dodging the sorting, Hank thinks he'll never have to be mated, but when an omega handler in training is brought muzzled and naked to his doorstep, newly presented and in heat, he realizes resisting his own urges and rethinking his prejudice is harder than it seems.





	1. Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello DBH and Hannor fandom! I've been lurking in the shadows for a long while, but I am finally making a contribution. Let's hope it'll be a good one ;) (no promises). Like the rest of you, I'm hella into this pairing, and being the gore whore and nasty ass trash I am, I turned it into a fucked up AU that capitalizes on the hatred and abuse from the game.  
> Turn back now if you do not want to see anything bloody, sexual, or abusive. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

It was never the feel of cold snow against his skin, or the sight of white flying down and coating the air, it was always the sound. The sound of a Detroit snowstorm, without fail, left the man's hair standing on edge, eyes snapping shut as he evaded flitting images of screaming omegas, howls carrying in the storm and ringing in his ears even hours after their trails of beaten out blood froze rock solid on the pavement at his feet.   


But it never stopped him from working. To react was to show weakness, and to show weakness was to be omega, and that among all things was something Hank Anderson was not. 

He kicked off the blood in slosh, looking back at the street around him. They were five damn feet away. Five feet away from making it into the police station, the steps a cusp from where their reaching hands once laid. He couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh, thinking they’d have to be pretty damn foolish to think they’d actually get help by seeing the police. The reality was, a deviant omega was as good as dead, either reaching that point by the swing of their alpha’s fists or the snap of a trigger from a cop who decided to deal out his own justice. Not once was that cop Hank. 

Either to escape the cry still carrying in the wind or to answer the one from the door, he managed to pull himself away, climbing back up the sleet-covered steps and inside the station buzzing with life. With this being the seventh case of the quarter, alpha mates and officials alike were clamoring for answers, coming to the cops with complaints and concerns of upset and fowl management in the department. More alphas even brought in their omegas, getting them tagged with glowing dyes and installing added chips into purchased collars adorned with information, or requesting new functions be installed onto their LED trackers, demanding new developments.

Passing through the halls and back to his desk, he couldn’t help but thank whatever god there was that he didn’t have a mate, his eyes caught on bites or bruises marring the whole of omegas’ throats, the purples and blues bleeding onto their jaws and leading as a path to the sight of those bright eyes, glinting with something between fear and resigned dejection. Some had black eyes, and fewer had glistening tears, their hands shaking as suppressants and birth control pills were wrangled from their grip. He knew he was just as capable of that, that instinct buried somewhere inside as another alpha, he knew that. But under no circumstance did he want to be a part of it, even if it was expected, and he had a score to settle with every damn omega for the damage they’d done. 

And at the ripe age of 53, it looked like he wouldn’t have to join in. Most omegas got shipped off to younger, wealthier alphas that wanted to claim a mate. Not grouchy old cops who hated the mere thought of bringing another kid into the world. He’d done it once, and he’d be damned if he’d do it again. 

“Quite a surprise to see you around all day, Hank. Perhaps you could get working on your assignment.” 

Hank whipped around, all scowling brows and excuses as he looked back to the captain, not wanting to have this conversation again. 

“I am not working the case. I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle--” 

“I don’t wanna hear it again, Hank.” His argument was quickly cut off, the other looking at him with a quiet anger he knew could turn explosive if he wasn’t careful. “You are a fucking lieutenant for god’s sake, and you think you can’t handle this? You were one of the best--” 

“Oh, bullshit, Jeffrey. I don’t know jack shit about this-this fuckin’ omega business,” He couldn’t help but shoot back, feeling that primal rage grow at the prospect of getting saddled with this case. “I’ve never had a mate!”

“I think you’re perfectly qualified…! You’re a damn good cop, and you waste it on alcohol and outbursts. I know it’s been hard since--” 

“Don’t even fucking go there,” Hank hissed, glaring daggers at him before he managed to calm down. “I am not going to take your case, so you’ll just have to find someone else.” 

“No, I won’t. Hank, you're a lieutenant for the Detroit Police Department, under  _ my _ command, and if you want to keep it that way, you’re gonna take this case, dammit! So either accept it or turn in your badge because I refuse to add to the fuckin’ novel of you disciplinary file.” His eyes were dark, the anger and agitation eating into the captain’s voice as he left the ultimatum. 

Hank knew he had no choice. There was no way he was turning in that badge yet. 

“Your mistake, Jeffrey.” 

He grabbed his wallet and keys, yanking them off of the desk with the file and heading out the door, slamming it shut as he went back into the night flurry, body hot with anger unaware of the harsh chill. 

Fowler expected him to solve the deviant case? Fat fucking chance at that. He stomped through the trail of icy blood, growling at an aloof handler cadet also leaving for the day. Why the hell couldn’t their division get the case? It was their fault all this shit was happening anyway. They shouldn’t have fucked up the pairings and analysis. All the detectives were doing was cleaning up their damn mess. With only a confused response, he left the brunet alone and drove back home, going straight to the fridge for another bottle of liquor. 

The air smelled of stale beer and leftover takeout, and with the view of strewn about laundry and tipped over boxes claiming his house, he could level that his old friend was at least right about him being a bit unsteady and alcoholic, even if he wasn’t going to change it. There was no point when there was nothing else to live for. 

Even after all this time, the house looked almost identical to the day after the incident, broken glass from shattered frames still on the floor with packed up memories crammed into sealed boxes he never found the will to move. He was sure it would never change, just like his emotions on the topic. Perhaps when he was dead. That was when things would be shoved aside, the items scoured through for evidence once the body was moved away and buried, the man finally back where he was supposed to be, next to his son. 

“Yeah, I’ll feed you,” He mumbled, his mood softening as his trusty companion came up and nuzzled against his leg for pets. “You’re a good boy, Sumo.” Despite how shitty the day was, he could at least be happy about that. 

Taking a long pull from the bottle, whiskey tasting more like water on his parched lips, he grabbed the food, adding in a little extra to the bowl and grabbing him a treat to go on top. Sure, Sumo didn’t need it, but he couldn't stand the thought of the dog going hungry, knowing this was one of the few ways he could express his appreciation for keeping him company, never leaving even though he deserved it for constantly going out to bars instead of playing more with the dog. 

Ensuring his companion was satisfied, he nodded and dragged himself into the living room, plopping down on the couch and turning the channel to the newest basketball game, as if he would remember the score, let alone his own thoughts, by the end of the night. It was always just better to have the hum of people around him, the noise distracting him from the silence once filled with laughter, discussions, and even arguments that he missed more than he could admit. 

He hoped it wouldn’t be long before he’d temporarily forget that truth again, guzzling down another couple of shots and paying attention to the warm purr that weedled into his chest the more he drank. Fuck the case and all those damn omegas Jeffrey wanted him to track. They could wait until tomorrow, the anger gradually subsiding as the man drifted off. A wave of bleak nothingness and the sting of sharp alcohol spiriting him away from everything and nothing at all. 

Perhaps he’d just die like this, and never have to see the case. Maybe then the world would let him alone, and the scream of stolen children or sobbing omegas could finally leave him to rest, their cries trapped in the wind knocking on the windows, still chilling as he faded from conscious.

 

-01100011 01101111 01101110-

 

Two more days. 

That was all he had left before he could officially start his job as an Omega Handler for the police department. As protocol demanded, all cadets had to wait until their 24th or 25th birthday to be incorporated into the workforce, depending on when each person presented. It was to ensure no omega became an officer, since the Work and Safety guidelines were established on Christmas of 2035. 

It was already common practice by that point, but that was the date the national standard was set into action: no omegas driving on the road, working outside the position of homemaker and procreator, or disobeying any guidelines laid out by their protector and alpha. If any of those rules were broken, the omega would have to answer to court of law and stand trial for the crimes they’d committed against their mate, and the public for their disruptive display of defiance. 

But Connor wasn’t too worried about his birthday. Most omegas presented at 24, and as far as he’d been told, omegas couldn’t dream of having a trained eye and obedient will like he was constantly praised for having. So he waited as patiently as he could, the anticipation strong as it flipped around in his upset stomach throughout the week. It was almost like he ached to work, his heart near beating out of his chest, and his movements quickened with the influx of adrenaline. He never knew he could be so excited, his nerves impeding upon his new high score for number of bullseyes made in the practice shooting range. 

Pulling the glasses and headphones off for fear of going against shooting attentiveness protocol, he almost jumped at the sound of clapping behind him, the noise catching him off guard and leaving him defensive until he realized it was Michael Fischer. 

Him and the sandy blond were close through training, a little more than what could be considered friends, and he often fell just below Connor when it came to test scores and accuracy, not that he didn’t find a way to decently top him when it came to stolen moments back at Michael’s apartment, internal affairs allowed in protocol until induction. Especially with the man standing there in a fitted uniform, a smirk strung on his lips, the cadet felt himself get a little hot under the collar. But perhaps that was just his weird nerves talking at the moment. They’d agreed on friends and nothing else, a choice put forward by Connor when he’d come at a stand still with his own feelings and met the roadblock of breaking protocol. 

“So, still at it, huh? When are you gonna get your ass over to the station? I’ve got no one interesting to talk to,” Michael drawled, running a hand through his slicked back hair and coming closer to lean against the perch. 

“As soon as they let my records through, I’m happy to join the force.” 

“Speaking of that, happy early birthday,” The other added, winking and moving closer before Connor started walking away. “We should do something, since I know you haven’t made plans yet.” 

“I think I’ll just work late that night, just try to meet everyone on the team and catch up now that I’m a few days behind.” 

“Oh c’mon, Connor. You’ve gotta lighten up a bit. Live a little and celebrate the graduation, just for a night. And I have to work late every night but that one…!” 

The brunet felt the man’s hand graze his own as he caught up to him, the low voice tickling in his ear and somehow being off-putting, his hand almost yanking away like he was avoiding his fears. He didn’t know what had gotten into him. Sure, they broke off whatever it was that they had, but it’s not like anything had changed in the dynamic between them or the attraction. And yet, he felt on edge, as if he was being pulled in the opposite direction and away from the only man he’d ever been intimate with. 

“Maybe… Let me start the job, and then I’ll decide,” He conceded, not wanting to keep the conversation going any longer. 

“Fine, just don’t be like a pussy omega and wimp out on me, alright?” 

Connor just nodded and gave a small wave, explaining that he needed to head home to finish some application work before dodging into the locker room and attempting to change into his day clothes. It was harder than usual with his limbs aching and his mind blurring out of reality, his thoughts only jumping back when he felt surprised and unreasonably threatened by knocks on the door or voices passing by. And after expending too much energy on the futile effort, he decided on staying in uniform, heading out the front door with blood splattered near the steps. 

He was caught up in his thoughts, wondering how long it’d taken the cops to neutralize the omega and if it put up much of a struggle. He knew that deviants could be irrational, destructive creatures, the individuals already plagued with damaged judgement and instability. After all, that’s why they were under the protection of alphas. As he’d been told by experienced colleagues and parents... Lost in his mind, he didn’t register a man walking towards him, bumping into him and snarling as the brunet was left shocked. He felt silenced and controlled, his body lurching every which was as his mind threatened to spill over, making him even a bit horny of all things at the moment, must be an alpha. They were known to have a bit of an effect on everyone. Though he had little time to think about it when a group of handlers jumped out of the delivery truck, carrying in a crate with a screaming omega, a trail of blood dribbling behind as they pushed into the investigative quarter. 

The man fell into the snow, feeling a venomous sting down his spine with an immense fear coursing through his system. It was almost like he could feel the terror that they felt, a lump building in his throat like he could cry. How on earth could he… sympathize with an omega…? 

Not knowing what else to do, he sprinted back to his apartment, turning on a cold shower and soaking himself down like it would kill the burning ache in his quivering body. He still felt afraid, like a rabbit tracked by a wolf, and he slapped on whatever boxers and t-shirt he touched first, just wanting to go to sleep and end this day spiraling out of his control. And to make matters worse, he still felt the coil in his chest, his muscles tight below the navel to make him some morbid version of turned on. 

Maybe he should see Michael on his birthday, get this weird itch out of his system even if he himself wasn't into it… 

Or maybe he should just go to sleep and forget about all of this until tomorrow. That was probably the wise option between the two, with protocol and all. Though it was a struggle to pull off, he managed to get himself to sleep, repressing that anxious side and giving into the pull of impending exhaustion that was fast consuming his body. 

\---

It’d felt like he’d never even fallen asleep when he was harshly woken up. There was a shrill beeping that reverated in his ringing ears, and the sound of people clamoring into his room startled him into springing up before the pain in his sweat-coated body forced him back down. He could feel the panic in his system, and he frantically looked from side to side, the gun in his nightstand knocked from his reaching hand by a man in the familiar gear of an armored handler.  

“Stay the fuck down, you omega cunt!” The man shouted, the lazer light on his weapon disorienting Connor and making his dizzy. 

“Officer, what are you talki--” He began, the handler bashing his face in with the end of his weapon. 

He was sure he at least had a split lip and broken nose, tasting the iron tang of his own blood. But beyond that, he wasn’t able to make anything out, everything hurting when the brunet was yanked from his bed and thrown belly-first onto the floor. The feel of sweat-soaked clothes ate into his heaving chest, mixing with the blood, and he moved to wipe the mess on his face away, catching sight of the blinking epidermal chip in his left wrist, the bright violet codage indicating he’d presented. As an omega.

“He’s gotta weapon! Stop him!” Another commanded, two officers coming at him too fast to see before they began stripping his clothes away, going against every rule he’d learned about waiting for the omega to provoke action. He clearly wasn’t armed, and he’d said nothing to threaten them, and yet he was being ripped apart.

He could feel the scratch of their rough hands on his skin, tearing away his shirt and boxers for no reason at all, yanking his hips up before smacking his rear, hard. He’d never felt so violated and broken, crying out with the smack as he felt a trail of unfamiliar slick run down his thigh. Though he’d been told about the signs of an incoming heat, this was all so new, and happening so fast. He wretched as he felt the wave of sensations, trying to close his thighs before they were forced open again. 

“The fuck’s already in heat. Fucking disgusting bitch couldn’t even wait for an alpha to start.” 

He heard the words, felt the described symptoms, and saw the chip indicate it was so, but he just couldn’t believe it. All his life, he’d been told that he was better than an omega: the second sex focused only on breeding and reliant on its alpha for every thought its mind would think. But here he was, living the beta life until this very moment, now being ripped apart and manhandled like his supervisors had described since day one those two years ago. 

“Please, there’s been a mistake--!” He reasoned, earning nothing but a gun on his head and a harsh hit on his already collapsing knees, thighs splayed and tight erection pressed into the cold tile. 

“Learn to shut the fuck up, Co-Omega. Or we’ll have to teach you again.” 

His head snapped around when he heard the familiar vibrato in that deep voice, unable to make it out with his ill-adjusting eyes, but being sure it was Michael. 

“Is that--” 

“Not another fucking word, or your brains are gone!” The man shouted this time, tapping it against his sweaty skull and burying a boot in his ass to give the man a painful stretch of his damp thighs. 

Connor could feel tears nipping at his eyes now, burying his nose in the floor to avoid the others seeing and getting in trouble once again. Knowing that Michael was one of the people swarming above him, he was sure this must actually be real, and his body started to give up, becoming what he’d been taught to hate, submissive, omega. 

“Good, you weak bitch. Now keep your shit together, and you might make it.” 

The gun withdrew, and he was left to breathe for a moment, his body convulsing by this point and his lungs struggling to get oxygen. But as with the rest of his freedom, the air was ripped away, another handler burying a gloved hand in his hair and forcing him up as his free hand shoved the muzzle bit between his lips, tying it in the back with a bruising tightness. It pressed on his nose and mouth, anchored on his chin and throwing him in a delirious state of asphyxiation; the taste of blood and choking metal keeping him from passing out. 

He wanted to know where Michael was: if he was the one clipping the collar round his throat or the one throwing him into the kennel, or the third one that laughed as he smacked against the metal walls and scrambled to keep from questioning as they carried him out of his home, maybe even the silent when against the wall. 

As he was jostled and swung between them on the walk out, he shivered in his bare skin against the snowy cold, smacking against the walls of the shoulder width cage and then groaning when they threw him into the back of the truck. He knew exactly where they were going, how he was going to be processed, and what he was becoming, but it didn’t stop him from collapsing in on himself and screaming out against the frozen metal. 

To react was to show weakness, and to show weakness was to be omega, and that among all things was exactly what Connor Rickston had become. 

\---

By the time the truck stopped again, he was dejected, his bare body shivering against the cold of the night more than his lungs struggled to heave. 

They were on their way to his alpha’s home, having left the station a few minutes prior. It was a memory he wished he could erase, unsure if he ever could with the earth-shattering pain now residing in his skull. 

They’d ripped out his wrist chip, dumping him onto the receiving bay floor and digging a boot into his shaft as if the bruising grip on the leash wasn’t enough. It was a traitorous thing, his body, getting and staying hard as he felt nothing but anguish. When they’d gotten him to stop moving, his voice hoarse and unable to cry, they jammed the ring into his temple, burying it into his skin and activating the tracker that showed he was an omega. He could still see it now, its dim blue glow illuminating a few inches in front of him as he laid captured and beaten in his cage. 

As the truck abruptly halted, he groaned and hissed under his breath, new bruises forming over ones that still hadn’t even bloomed yet. And once the door swung open, the peridot gaze of someone who was once a friend now marred with hatred staring him down, he could do nothing but submit. He pulled the reins on his desire to ask why, the words sure to come out garbled nonsense if he tried with the bloodied bit between his cracked lips. Resistance rendered pointless. The moment he’d go into that home, it would be all over for him, so he might as well just get used to it.

 

-01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011-

 

There was a loud knock on his door. 

Though he’d be hard pressed to open it. He was drunk out of his mind, his limbs lost in the sea of numbness and nausea. And who the hell needed to see him at this hour anyway? If they knew him, then they should be aware of the fact that he wasn’t going to get shit done at two in the morning. But with Sumo barking at the late night disruption, he couldn’t ignore it any longer, needing to get rid of that loud bark clanging in his brain. 

He stepped over empty bottles and cards, yanking the front door open. He looked at the disruptive guests, examining the uniform clad handlers and a cage in their arms before he was hit by the very strong scent of a heat. 

“Hell no. Get that shit out of here,” He growled, feeling his already swimming mind now pulled into the clutches of an oncoming rut. The detective couldn’t see him, but this one smelled so fucking good, so fresh and close. It was the first time he’d been around for a heat in general, and it was harder to ignore the urge when the whiskey wooed him into complacency. 

“I said get the fuck out of here!” 

They all looked between each other, as if they didn’t know whether to follow their orders or the order of a shouting alpha. Too fucking typical for betas who were lost without the call of a commander. 

“Please, Lieutenant Anderson, you were the only option. We can assure you this was the right choice,” One of them stammered, clearing their throat and broadening their shoulders like it would mean something to him. 

All the man could think about was the smell of an omega mixed with… drying blood. And it made him unreasonably horny and unreasonably angry. 

“So, you hit my fucking omega without permission?” He seethed, grinding his sharpened canines as he watched the exposed body rattle the cage with its shivers. 

“We had no other choice…! He was armed and dangerous. He was a handling cadet, understood all of the tactics and state of the art technology. That’s why he was assigned to you.” 

He was caught between two responses, unsure if he should proceed to blame them for hurting someone that he knew wasn’t actually his or argue that he wouldn’t be accepting a mate. Neither of them were great options, but he opted to make his life more difficult, moving to let them inside and looping behind them to look at the face of the new omega. The damn idiots brutalized him, maybe even fractured ribs, and he felt his mind lurch with shock when he figured out it was the same guy he’d hissed at on his way out. 

The beaten kid looked up at him, brown hair falling in his face, and his eyes glowing with emotions before he looked back down, choking on some blood he must have swallowed. Even then, he looked attractive, and Hank hated himself for thinking such a disgusting thing at the moment. 

With the sound of his struggle, three of the four handlers started chuckling to themselves, and the detective couldn’t help but snarl, marching up into their space and baring his teeth. 

“You wanna tell me what’s so damn funny, betas?! It wouldn’t happen to be him, would it?” He barked out, smelling heaps of fear from all of them, including the trembling omega. 

“N-No. No, sir.” 

“Well, then shut the fuck up and get out of my house! I’m done with your shit.” 

They all just nodded, allowing themselves to be manipulated by the call of an alpha, and handed him the keys, setting down the rest of the offerings that came with the omega before saluting and showing themselves out, leaving the man with nothing but the thick scent of that intoxicating heat. 

Going up to the cage to free the other, and definitely not get a better look and smell of him, Hank grabbed the keys and opened the space, moving aside as if he was afraid to touch him. The alpha knew that if he did make contact, he would go straight into a rut, his judgement already clouded without it. He hated how the other still sat inside, despite the chance of freedom, and kept quiet, fearful eyes with swallowed up irises shining. Seems the heat was far on it’s way by now, and the shine in that mahogany gaze pulled the detective in, forcing him to take a closer look before he willed himself back.

“You can come out,” He told him softly, clearing the hungry rasp in his voice and proceeding to untie the leash from the metal bars. “I’m not gonna hit you.” 

The omega hesitated, stumbling forward and crawling out of the space with a whine trapped back in the muzzle. He wondered how long they’d kept him like this, the kid on the verge of hypothermia with pale skin and darkening nail tips, the rest of his body covered in welts, boot marks, and bruises that he was positive would look even worse by morning. And at the end of it, he couldn’t help but peek at his rear, the bruised cheeks calling his disgusting alpha side out. He could hear the slight moans the omega felt with each movement, the trail of self-lubricant on his thighs becoming more bothersome on his aching skin.It sent a shiver down his own spine, making him feel himself grow a bit hard and hot. He hated this omega for being so alluring, and he hated his alpha self for being so enamored. 

But Hank had to find a way to help him, even if he didn’t want him here. Maybe he could just clean him up for the night and send him back in the morning, hoping the same aggression wouldn’t happen again if he was reprocessed. 

“Can you stand?” He asked, undoing the muzzle with painful slowness as to avoid touching him. 

The other gasped and panted, closing his eyes and nodding before stammering to speak. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Though he seemed unable to back the claim, his knuckles paling further as he tried to climb to his feet, gritting his teeth through the effort. His legs were shaking, and when they managed to get onto their knees, the omega groaned, biting their already broken lip to keep from making extra noise. Before collapsing. 

Hank was quickly at his side, not touching him but crouching down next to him. It looked like he’d have to step in. 

“Alright, fine--okay,” He huffed with the inconvenience, scooping him into his arms and doing his best to carry the both of them off to the bathroom when he was still hammered. 

It’d been so long since he’d worked out or even gone for a run, and he could feel the strain of carrying another person, the weight feeling immeasurable when the instinct was to throw them down on the bed and fuck the life out of them. Their skin was so cold, but it still burned against the alpha’s chest, making Hank groan and adjust himself as he walked through the maze of his belongings. 

He dropped him in the tub, trying to part from the drug-like pull of the omega’s contact, and quickly started the tap going, adding soap into the water to attempt dulling the strong smell. His supposed mate just remained quiet, staying still even as new blood fell from his swollen lips. 

It was shocking this lithe, shivering brunet was supposed to be a handler. From what the detective could gather, he didn’t look suited to the work or ethic at all, his features soft and meek with a spattering of freckles along his light skin. Sure, he had great muscle definition, and a calm face, but he didn’t look like someone incapable of empathy like the ones who’d brought him in that night. Not that he should care. He was just going to get rid of him in the morning...

“Okay, well. I think you know how to bathe yourself, so have at it.” 

He turned the water off and moved the shampoo and soaps closer, picking up some stray clothes before leaving and closing the bathroom door behind him. 

Now he just needed to figure out how he would go without fucking him until he could ship him off in the morning. Shouldn’t be so hard, right? 


	2. Restraint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD WHERE DO I START???? 
> 
> UM???? 
> 
> FAM???? 
> 
> How have so many of you commented, left kudos on, or just even read this story??? 
> 
> I am honestly just shook by the response to the story thus far, and I am thus frightened to post the next chapters, finding them insufficient even after rewriting them three times. Like for real, please do not beat me up with sticks, stones, or words for my inability to deliver as I know I'm slacking but am still fragile and can't take the hits XD 
> 
> But anyways, thank you again so much for the kindness and enthusiasm expressed. I hope to the stars that I can make chapter three better than the garbage pile that I find this chapter to be~

He’d never gotten used to the sight of his own blood.

Despite seeing the substance on a daily basis: splattered on the streets, in kennels he had to clean, or on frozen complexions that passed him by, he always felt nauseous seeing himself bleed. Perhaps it was because it implied he was injured, a dangerous prospect in a dangerous job, but more likely than that, it terrified him to think he had something in common with _them_. Omegas bled, cried, and died, but betas were strong soldiers that followed orders, deeply focused on protocol and fulfilling a mission rather than seeking the satisfaction of their own needs. Or crying over wounds that’d been earned for… whatever it was he was doing wrong.

If he were honest with himself, he should have seen this coming, his presenting, with the way he reacted so poorly to the sight. He was just as weak as many of the others he’d seen concerning being beaten and bleeding, not even having the guts to fight back. It made him wonder how much of him had always been omega. Had he always been so fragile, so frightened, and so incredibly weak like he was now? Or was it all developed with the influx of hormones? He wished he had an answer to such questions, but he supposed that was just the point of it all. Omegas couldn’t figure life out without the strong hand of an alpha gripping tight at their minds.

He could feel a few treacherous tears sliding down his face with the thought of such uncertainty, unwilling to wipe them away and acknowledge their presence. He’d just have to get used to this uncertainty, this frailty and dependency from now on, and instead work on listening to instruction, being docile or most importantly doing as his alpha said. Maybe then he could have a clear head. Understand why after being trusted with a gun, a driver’s license, and an opinion against superiors, he’d lost, or given into, his senses and been stranded with nothing but warring emotions left screaming inside this bleeding body.

Being slapped with the strong smell by the door, he remembered the other aspect of himself that changed with his second sex, a more prominent part that couldn’t be fixed without the help of an alpha. It made his skin scald just to consider what his body was pleading for, his shaft straining in the rosy-kissed water, and the space between his hips coated in essence just because it knew a breeding partner was near. With the enhanced senses being so new and devouring him slowly through the wait, need was thrumming in his veins, clouding the brunet’s mind with one thought, the knot. It was all he could do to will his hands up for cleaning his face, silently gagging at the scarlet streaks painted across his hand from a blood-caked lip.

Even as he got himself more presentable, preening and spreading his legs like the other could already see the offer, there was no entrance into the room. Not even a knock as the scent faded again and left Connor alone with his biting need. It made him remember the way the alpha, the lieutenant, was different, less assertive than the others he heard about. A rather disappointing fact at the moment.

He’d heard stories of alphas taking their new mates right on their cold entryway floor, ripping the omegas by the leash and muzzle to fuck them without even a batted eye at handlers still in the house. And yet, this alpha was different, incredibly patient with him as he promised not to hit him, even while the brunet was slow about getting out of the kennel as his mate-to-be requested. Going so far as to chide handlers for the way they’d treated him before delivering Connor to his home. Though that might’ve had more to do with not wanting a mate than protecting him from the humor the men got from watching him choke…

Regardless of his reasons, the man really was an individual, rare sort of alpha, one that helped him into the tub and left him to himself when it was pretty obvious he was in heat and asking to be fucked fast and hard by a knotted, alpha cock. Thighs squeezing together and his tongue darting out to smooth over his lips at the mere thought of the flames left from their contact. God, he hoped he could hold back long enough for the alpha to want him, too.

 

-01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011-

 

“You alright in there, Connor?”

He got a feeble yes in response, the upturned flick of the word indicating his surprise. The kid must’ve thought he was a creep. Knowing his name by looking in his file. He was just trying to figure out anything that would help him get situated with a new alpha tomorrow. Though the idea of giving him up became all the more difficult with each breath, the siren song of lust purring about keeping the brunet and knotting the ever living shit out of him each night. He hated himself just a little more as he gave another inch, turning the doorknob and walking into the dimly lit bathroom, burning skin chilled as he padded along the sullied tile.

Hank convinced himself he just needed to see the guy, look over his injuries and nothing more, doing his absolute best to keep the distance between them as he halted in place. The kid just looked back at him, his lips in a pout and his legs parted, eyes sharp as a knife as they honed in on him. He could tell the other was horny, the smell of desperation rolling off in thick waves, and god dammit, the detective took another fatal step.

He’d never experienced a true rut like this, the heavy hits of omega musk throwing his body into a mad search for satiation.  And though he despised his wretched self for it, he tread closer, watching as the brunet slid to the edge of the tub, meeting every labored breath with one of his own. By the time they came a kiss away, the other was craning his neck, staring into the detective’s eyes with nothing but pupils, Hank’s hand on the porcelain rim of the tub.

“Here’s a towel,” He whispered, pulling himself away from the hypnotic pull and yanking the fabric from the hanger. He hadn’t even realized he’d gotten onto his knees, climbing back up and dragging himself out of the room again.

It was a mad dash into the bedroom when he got away, his breath heaving to clear his lungs but only managing to pull more of that genetic drug into his veins. He was seeing nothing but shadows in his closet, his eyes unfocused, and he grabbed the first shirt and boxers his hands touched, uncaring of how clean, fitting, or appropriate they may be to offer. There was nothing to distract his mind, pull his senses away, just lead his thoughts and body back to Connor, unable to help a low grumble when he saw the erection pressed tight against the towel round his waist.

“Just take these for now.”

He dropped the items to the ground before the wobbling brunet could accept them, afraid of what would happen if they touched each other again. The first time was already too much to bear, and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if Connor could feel his lecherous hunger with the influx of the omega’s new senses.

“Are you hungry...?” He added, tapping his feet on the tile and staring up at the burnt out lightbulbs, the pained moans of fabric on raw skin leaving Hank’s hair standing on edge. Fuck, this was all too much at once.

“If I’m allowed, I’ll eat something…”

Now he was sure of it. He really was a monster, wasn’t he? The kid didn’t even think he’d be allowed to eat in his house and just tried to do what he thought his alpha wanted instead. Why couldn’t he just get his shit together and help the omega? It’s not like he’d never been attracted to people before and resisted…This should be no different. Even if it was. Extremely.

“Yeah, you-you’re allowed. Just gimme your hand, and we’ll get you something.”

Hank stretched out his grip, doing his best to keep from dragging the other over to the couch or pinning him down, telling himself that the way this soft hand fit into his own wasn’t perfect and certainly wasn’t a turn-on with how it sent electricity up his arm. Hopefully, this would just come off as righteous impatience. With the way he threw him down on a bar stool, perhaps it would.

 _What the fuck do I even have to eat?_ He thought to himself, staring with dead eyes at a cupboard in the kitchen.

Grumbling to himself about alphas being all-knowing, he ripped open a box of macaroni, accidentally dumping the contents into the pot as he attempted to move quickly. It was almost a shame he couldn’t blame it on being drunk this time, having taken a hangover suppressant while the kid was cleaning up. Most of the time, he liked feeling nauseous in order to have a distraction, but this time he had to employ all of that alpha genius everyone was so proud of. He’d thought it’d help the desperation. All it got him was more focus on what he most wanted to ignore.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve gotten a stain on your shirt, sir.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He hissed, turning the overboiling water off and charging over to the other side of the counter.

Of course Hank didn’t give a damn about the shirt, but he’d be damned if this kid kept summoning his attention. No matter how hard the man tried, he got pulled like a puppet on a string back to Connor, their eyes catching before he reached for the first aid kit and stood towering at his side.

“I’m sorry, sir--”

“Would you shut up?!” He bared his teeth and slammed the kit down, clearing his throat and carding a hand through his hair before speaking again. Even if this guy seemed unfazed, Hank couldn’t help but feel guilty for getting out of hand. “Just cool it. It’s fine… I’m bothered they made such a mess…”

Connor just nodded with a heavy head, allowing the man to work with at least one less distraction to worry about. And in an attempt to somehow make it up to him, Hank trailed his hand over a toned arm, cataloging each bruise, scrape, and cut he could find, biting his tongue hard to make it gentle.

Those handlers really had fucked the kid up. The damage was about as bad as it got without them trying to kill him, and it made the lieutenant feel like an even shittier person that he was going to have him reprocessed tomorrow. Each mark he was tending to now would only be doubled or tripled by the end of the morning.

“It’ll be alright,” He cooed like he was actually a good caring, person, chancing a look back at Connor as he whimpered at the sting of disinfectant. “I just need to wrap your chest, and we’re done.”

With the small, trusting nod, he inhaled and held his breath, closing his eyes as he worked away the oversized shirt.

It was hell to look it over. For one, the kid was attractive from far more than a sexual standpoint, defined muscles with speckling freckles lining over his pale skin. And on the other, the gashes on his chest were inhumanly cruel. Each bruise was almost a deathly black as loose imprints of guns marked this pristine canvas, and every tear was weeping new blood, open and mixing with the smell of musk that coated the air. He had to go find his uniform pouch, knowing the leftover gauze of his home kit wouldn’t be enough for the damage left by such monsters.

Even if he’d been bitter about omegakind in the past, Hank knew this was beyond wrong. No one should hurt an omega like this, especially if that omega was Connor.

He just did his best not to get upset about it, rubbing the salve into skin and wrapping each injury with more care than he’d given himself in years. At least the anger spirited his mind away from the stock still brunet, taking him a few moments before he realized Connor was whining from a different, unattended pain again, swiveling his hips and moving the hand further down his skin. Now below the navel.

Holy fuck his skin was hot, almost burning into and through his palm as he let it rest atop the waistband, idling it there while he looked into Connor’s dark eyes. Those endless pupils captured only by a thin ring of brown.

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do right now?"

His hand slid further down, feeling the damp warmth eating through thin fabric. The kid was painfully hard, and just one twitch of his palm elicited a moan from the other before he nodded his response.

“I need a yes, Connor Rickson. I’m not gonna deal with your heat begging while you actually wanna stop.”

There was another whine and bob of his cock, Connor staying silent before reaching a hand down and resting it over the one on his covered length, looking up at Hank with soft but serious eyes, dilation wavering.

“Yes. I understand, Hank.”

Those words, that small, electric gesture shattered something in Hank, cutting through his hungry demon inside and waking another creature far less common from himself. Maybe it was the request, the use of his name, or something to do with that soft tone, but the detective felt more than anything, overcome with belonging. Sure, he still wanted to pound into the kid, but what he needed was to make Connor feel satisfied, safe, desired.

“Alright,” his whispered. “But you better tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“I promise.”

 

-01100011 01101111 01101110-

 

Connor was dizzy with need when he fell back onto the bed, his legs shifting and squirming in the uncomfortably drenched boxers. With each touch of Hank’s hands and the look in his slowly expanding pupils, the brunet lost more of himself, the need to be filled consuming more and more of his desire for obedience.

The alpha was just so strong, so warm, and so controlled. He could clearly see his own desire mirrored back in those ocean eyes, the smell even stronger in the air, but the lieutenant found a way to hold it back, his calloused hands shaking as he traced gentle touches down sweat-dappled sides. It was almost as if he was worshipping the skin he’d just taken the time to fix, admiring the broken frame that was the omega’s slender body.

“Please,” He couldn’t help whimpering out, his abs tense as he kept from bucking up into the air, desperate for just a taste of what Hank’s touch would feel like against his cock, bleating out like a lamb when the hands passed his hips and trickled down to his thighs.

“Hold your horses, kid. I’m not trying to-to claim you.”

Hank’s eyes seemed to be wavering, searching for something like a reason to meet his request, believe that this was real, and Connor’s lust-addled mind was more than happy to accommodate.

“Please, lieutenant--! I wa--I need you…!” He cried out, unaware that it was more truth than the desperation etched into his thrumming red veins. And completely unprepared for just how effective those three little words could be.

Without any further pretense, the detective’s eyes were swallowed in desire, shattered blue barely containing the explosive pools of black. Hank’s knuckles were pale, digging into the sheets at Connor’s side, and he was starved of breath when the imposing figure climbed atop and straddled over his quivering knees, a low growl reverberating in his cracked skull.

“You need me, huh? And what is it exactly that you want?”

His eyes disappeared as he sunk down to Connor’s throat, teething at skin colored with a heavy flush. It was everything Connor wanted and feared at once, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly as his pulse jumped up to Hank’s lips.

A whisper in his mind begged he answer that he wanted a mark of his own, but another warned of the consequences, chanting that it was more than he was ready for. But why did it even matter? He wasn’t the one in charge here. The detective was the alpha, and even in this state, he knew it was up to the other to decide what his fate shall be.

“I want you to pic--”

“That’s not what I asked, Connor. I’m not here to meet your heat just to fuck you up. I asked what _you_ want.”

A hand came up to his covered length, pressing on the straining arousal, an irresistible incentive to be honest. He could be upset with himself later that he caved.

“I want you to fuck me, Hank! Please, I-I need you to knot me,” He choked out, splaying his legs wider and sending flames shooting up his spine as he grazed against the alpha’s bent knees. He couldn’t even bother to give a damn as his back arched, opening old wounds under the gauze they'd only just applied. The man asked, and he’d delivered.

And it seemed he’d get exactly what he wanted, the clenched fists spidering back up his thighs and holding onto his hips, pulling the fabric down with a swiftness his addled mind didn’t have the time to catch. Before he knew it, the brunet was bare naked, his body presented to the other, and his sweat spattered skin cold against the winter chill of an unheated Detroit home. He whined as he felt the cool on the self-lubricant, his cock twitching and curving up to his chest; more essence kissing past his perineum and onto the sheets, leading like a hormonal map down to his dripping wet hole.

He couldn’t help but clench, desperate to do anything that would attract his alpha’s attention, even swaying his hips and spreading the scent through the air, able to get a hand idly digging moons into his hips to slide over to his shaft and tease at the coated tip with the thumb rubbing over his ultra sensitive underside.

It was like tickling just next to the itch on an agitated back, almost getting the point and making it worse with its promising proximity. He wildly bucked his hips up, throwing his head back when it managed to get the alpha to stroke down his length, the other hand holding Connor still by the meat of his hip, a wandering finger smoothing over the dusting of brown hair between carved hips. The touch moving yet another inch closer.

His own hands moved as well, both coming up to the words of Hank’s shirt and fisting the material, pulling the man close enough that his grey hair tickled at rouge cheeks, hot breath beating down on the wells of his collarbones.

“And here I was tryna take it slow,” The alpha hissed, caging Connor’s shoulder in with one hand at his side, steadying himself above the brunet as he finally teased a finger at the soaked ring of muscle.

It felt like he almost came with the impact, the omega’s rim clenching as if to pull him even an inch inside. This was exactly where he needed him, and if the whimpers weren’t enough to show it, his limp legs bracketing around Hank’s back surely sent the message.

He threw his hips forward, rolling his spine through the touch and panting when he was granted a finger inside; the digit sliding in all at once, swallowed up by the omega’s entrance and held by the tight walls fluttering around it.

Even though he’d been fucked before, by one person, this was completely different. It was gratifying to feel Michael's length moving inside him, but even just Hank’s finger was enough to make Connor writhe beneath his alpha, groaning as the spindly length pumped back and forth inside his entrance. Then with an addition to make two then three fingers splaying inside and working him open, he was all but screaming out, choked out words lost in the sound of experienced digits working open his inexperienced pink hole.

He almost wondered if Hank wanted to torture him, thinking being taken right then on the floor would’ve been merciful in comparison. The lieutenant was working him up just to take the pleasure away, quickening the intensity and pace just to slow it down again or now spreading him out just to take the intrusion away, the ill-adjusted rim breathing and clenching when it was left painfully empty at once.

He thought he would lose his cool this time, thinking Hank was going to leave when he moved from on top of him, untangling himself from the brunet’s legs to kneel between his thighs. So it came as quite the surprise as the other hoisted them onto his shoulders, peering down at Connor with a glint in his eyes he didn’t quite understand and bent his chin down. In a breath, the alpha nuzzled his nose between his cheeks, a wet tongue coming out and flicking over the ring of muscle, testing it out.

Connor had never done anything like this before, and his body collapsed into the hold on his rear, mewling out as his worked open hole tried to adjust to this new sensation. The hot muscle glided over his already coated entrance, dipping inside with little resistance, low rumbles of groans shooting through the omega’s body with the sloshing and musings of a surprisingly nimble tongue.

“Holy fuck, Hank!” He mewled out, putty in his hands before his limbs pooled back on the bed, set down just as he was getting close to the edge, Hank still nestled between his legs but not touching, all of his clothes still on.

Connor’s cloudy eyes flew up to Hank’s with the end of yet another form of foreplay, boring into him and trying to decipher why he’d stopped, stilled above him and breathing heavily. It was almost like the man was still lost, unsure of what to do or where to go from here. It sent a chill up the younger man’s spine, making him wonder if it wasn’t actually impossible for an alpha to not know what he wanted.

“Hank, I--”

“You realize you can’t take this back, don’t you?” He stared back at the brunet with serious blue orbs, lips coated in Connor’s essence pulled into a frown.

It seemed like a bizarre question to ask, Connor thought. Of course he knew he couldn’t take it back, and even as he thought about it with some sense of clarity, he still felt the same way. It all felt damn good so far, his body was begging for more, and it was clear that the man had nothing malicious against him, unlike everyone else around him. He knew it was foolish and naive to think, but it was like they made good partners… fit well and complemented each other. If he wasn’t a weak omega, he could’ve seen himself meeting him at work even, forming a companionship, given the opportunity. So there was no way he’d consider regretting their actions.

“I do. I know, and I trust you… Hank.”

Connor returned the gaze with equal intensity, pushing his need aside for just one moment and resting a hand back over Hank’s, smiling a little and silently trying to voice his emotions.

Something clicked between them, and he saw the ripples of red from his LED flooded over Hank’s face in the dark, sure that he felt a semblance of shared relief as the other nodded, moving closer and adjusting his weight onto his knees, peering down at Connor a final time before sliding the fabric of his own boxers down.

The hunger washed over the omega again, but this time it was mixed with a sense of belonging, making Connor shudder when he caught sight of the lieutenant's impressive length. It felt mutual to the concept that his body belonged to Hank, as if it were something just for him and deeply intimate to share instead of primal, and as he presented himself to the alpha again, the man no longer resisted, lining himself up and easing inside.

It evoked a new level of gratification to the brunet, and he mewled in time with Hank’s deeper howl, his legs looping back around and laced at the back of his mate’s spine, anchoring them together as the length started plowing inside. Connor had to close his eyes, remind himself that he’d been waiting for this and needed to hold off for just a little bit longer, whimpering each time the other arched his back and snapped back in, grazing over his sweet spot with each in and out swipe.

He felt like he could lose himself in the contact, the length buried so deep he could feel it against Hank’s hand on his chest, the sting of the tremendous stretch only adding to the ripples of pleasure. He even rolled his hips forward to add to it, keep from getting too used to the pain, and he was rewarded with a groan back, the other’s breath quickening as both of their pleasure began to mount. Connor did it again and again, moving and breathing in tandem with his alpha, and before long, his mate was spilling inside him, filling the space between his hips and collapsing at his side, arousal still locked in place as the base began to swell.

The boy squeaked with the added stretch, crying out and panting as the two of them were tied together, toppling the omega over the edge as he as he was splayed, heart pounding against Hank’s as he curled up in his side and joined their lips to place the overflowing intensity somewhere, snaps of aftershocks pulsing as the knot reached its peak.

“And I don’t regret it,” He whispered between kisses, holding Hank’s shirt and watching as the dilation receded, tucking his mussed brown hair onto the pillow and getting comfortable for what felt like the first time in weeks, kissing the alpha a final time before he gave into afterglow rest, his mind at ease despite new blood trickling through gauze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I KNOWWWWWWWW 
> 
> It was shitty. Like really shitty, and not worth waiting an extra day to post, but like oh my god. It was a bitch to write, so it is what it is. I really needed to work on the dynamic and emotions, so after charting out the sex scene in multiple ways and writing it out, I decided this was the most accurate to what's happening and was the perspective y'all needed for now. 
> 
> Enough chat and sobbing tho, I hope it was worth the wait and not as bad as I thought. If so, just be patient with me, and I promise the coming chapters are better. 
> 
> Also yeah, I know Connor's logic probably sounds stupid as fuck lol but like it's supposed to be bc this system and its beliefs are stupid as fuck. The baby will learn eventually, but it's gonna take some time. *Waves my loaf of baguette at you like it'll make it so.* 
> 
> Thanks again for the read :D


	3. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I'm finally updating again woo. I know it's slapdash and all over the place, isn't my best work, but life is kinda crazy right now. Hopefully this will be a good enough contribution until the next one comes (hopefully next weekend)! 
> 
> It's not quite as fun and interesting at the beginning, but this is the gateway for the story picking up speed, so the plot should be more interesting and exciting from now on! :D

Connor woke with a start, unaware that he’d fallen asleep at all. He must’ve been far more exhausted than he’d anticipated, dozing off as the felt the comforting warmth of their intertwined bodies, Hank’s ocean eyes lulling him to sleep. Now he was just sore, struggling to sit up as he took in his surroundings.

He was alone in bed, the room’s layout becoming clear in the light of day. Clothes were strewn about the floor, pictures were turned down, and a giant St. Bernard was staring back at him with its chin resting on the edge of the mattress, a note lying on the imprint of where Hank must’ve been. 

_ “Gone to work. Be back soon,” _ It read; the lazy script smudged along the sticky note. 

The dog looked back at him with curious, droopy eyes, wagging its tail and grumbling lazily as it adjusted to be more comfortable in its position. He wondered how long they’d been there, surprised he hadn’t seen the creature until now. Though the night before was rather… hectic. 

“May I pet you?” Connor asked quietly, extending his hand for the dog to smell. 

The dog inched forward, running his cold nose over the knuckles and eventually bending its color-patched head for the brunet to pet. Connor couldn’t help but smile a little, happy this dog seemed to like him so far. He’d always liked dogs in the past and wanted to have one growing up, but none of them seemed to like him, always pouncing on him or growling when he’d try to give them a pet. And obviously, they were far too much of a mess for his parents to allow. 

“Maybe we can be friends, now that we live together.” At least, he hoped. He could use one of those around here considering how little he’d be allowed to leave the house now. 

Of course, the dog didn’t respond to the suggestion, but he did allow the man to continue petting him, jumping onto the bed and lying next to him where Hank used to be, yawning with strong dog breath in Connor’s face and making the brunet laugh as he nuzzled against his banged up shoulder. 

“You and the Lieutenant must be used to cuddling a lot, huh… Sumo?” He looked down at the collar and read the name, thinking it was a pretty nice fit with how heavy even this gentle giant’s head was, pinning him in place for the time being. At least it was a nice distraction from the reality that was fast becoming his life. The matter near official save for one detail, the claiming mark. 

He remembered wanting to beg Hank to give it to him, bite over his entire throat to show it was so, disappointed but swept over by the other pleasure he’d been experiencing at the time. He couldn’t even explain why it bothered him now, unsure of the reason he’d desire being claimed like that, his mind supposedly easier to tame once the imprint dug into the pulse in his neck. Connor just shrugged the worry aside for now, not wanting to get into the confusion that flooded his mind when it came to the mating ritual and the mate himself. 

Even with his mind not ridden with fatal need, he still couldn’t make sense of the alpha’s actions, recalling the way his eyes shone with… worry just as much as they did lust, the anger being mixed with some sort of apprehension, if Connor understood his dicey senses correctly. 

It made his stomach lurch, to think an alpha could be afraid, telling himself he must have been stupid with hunger and lost in the new feelings he had bashing against his skull that night. 

Alphas never got scared. That was the sign of an omega, and that was something Hank Anderson certainly was not. 

Needing to get rid of some of the stress that filled him on the subject, his mind clamoring to further examine the evidence, he forced himself off of the bed, deciding to get a look around and focus on the pain of his body instead. The dog grumbled as the man left, shifting to take up more room on the bed and looking at Connor for a moment before tucking their wet nose back into the covers. 

He moved as slow as he could to pull on the old shirt and boxers, wiggling with the uncomfortable, damp feel of blood or self-lubricant eating through the stale fabric before he made his way out of the room and into the hall, feeling every step as his backside ached with the beatings and intense intercourse he’d had. It seemed the rumors of alphas being well-endowed and strong wasn’t just a myth. And it wouldn’t be long before he realized that again, knowing heats could take a few days to subside on their own. Not that he was complaining…

Something he might complain about, if he had a choice, was having to move in; the rest of his life left behind at an apartment he’d never get to see again. Of course, the house was nice and far more spacious than his boxy abode, but it just wasn’t… his. There were so many little stories with pictures and clothes shoved in boxes, records on the counter, and various magazines for sports and bands he’d never even heard of. The only mark on this home that Connor had was his bloodied kennel and muzzle, both unceremoniously dumped in the entryway. 

He felt a shiver down his spine when he saw the dark metal glinting in the sunlight, noticing all the little splatters of his blood, and the dents from being tossed into the truck, each of the marks and aches still painfully clear on his body. It made Connor wonder, would his alpha ever use these again? If they were going to go out, would he make sure to muzzle him in case he needed to be watched, or would he let him walk by his side, ask his opinions as he had the night before? Caught up in another article he hadn’t noticed before, he looked at the glowing blue triangle and armband shining on the slung over coat, bringing it over to the counter and inspecting it as he rested on the stool.  

“RK800,” The right side of it jacket read, small white script pointing Connor Rickson out as the 800th and newest member of the Detroit omega roster, the word “OMEGA” in bold print along the back of his coat, letting the man and the world around him know that if he was seen out in public, anyone had the right to deny him service, force him out of a car, or turn him into the police at any given time. 

It was quite the early birthday present. 

Sure, he’d never celebrated much as he’d viewed it as frivolous and overly sentimental, but there was still a part of him that felt sad about it, like no matter what he was going to do on his birthday, boring or otherwise, the option was lost now. His life was not his own anymore, and therefore, neither was his birthday and what he wanted to do with it. It was stupid, he knew, and characteristically omega to a T, to care about such details, and knowing better than to find pity for himself, Connor eventually sighed and shoved the thought aside, going to the bathroom to clean himself up a little. 

No matter where he went, the omega was surrounded by the smell of the lieutenant, unable to help himself getting a little riled as he washed his face in the bathroom. Hank’s shampoo permeated his newly strengthened senses to remind him of the smell of the alpha’s hair that tickled at his cheeks, and more intimately, got buried in his neck and pressed against his temple with the knot tying them together, his spent body overcome with pleasure at the seemingly perfect way the man filled him. Even now, it made his mouth water and his legs buckle just a little, that gnawing ache that resided in his chest this morning only growing more potent. He could feel himself coating the already damp boxers again, trying to brush the need away, and taking small breaths to avoid that incredible smell while he undid the bandages on his chest. Halfway into the effort, he realized he didn’t have enough to replace them, only a small roll left and half a pack of bandaids. 

“Shit,” He whispered under his breath, patting the fresh blood away and working the salve in before using the rest of the gauze and bandages to keep the patch in place, looking quite pitiful with his makeshift work. He supposed he’d just have to wait for the lieutenant to get home, hoping the alpha wouldn’t be too mad that he’d gotten into his supplies to fix his reopened cuts. Based off of their interactions last night, it seemed like a 50-50 chance. 

The man was true to his word about not hitting him, and he made sure to get his consent before they took things further last night, but there was a righteously begrudging attitude to the alpha when they interacted sometimes. He complained about carrying him to the bathroom, and he was quite upset when he started making him food, seemingly perturbed by Connor’s presence. Which of course, the omega understood why. He knew they were all lots of work with their intense emotions and needs, crying out for a knot and always desiring an alpha to take them places. The brunet just hoped he didn’t make life too hard for the other. After all, he’d been voted most organized and was praised for his self-sufficiency back at the station, but he was sure that all went out the window when he presented. So, he quickly cleaned up his mess and looked back into the mirror, fixing his tousled hair. 

There was something he felt like he was missing, or forgetting to do, and he looked along the newly arranged counter he cleaned and in the shelf when he finally saw the reminder, condoms. 

“Am I--” He gasped automatically, speaking into the open air as he thought it through more, moving farther from the mirror cabinet and running his hands down to his bloodied and bandaged chest. Connor knew exactly what he’d forgotten now, reminded of what heats were actually for, getting an omega pregnant. 

-01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011-

Hank was shoving through groups of standing people, weedling his way into the quiet corridor and down the stairs, being sure to flaunt the confiscated bag of red ice for the cameras as he went down, wanting everyone to see that he was only there to turn in what he’d gotten from the raid and nothing more. 

He hated going on raids, or even showing up to work after the incident, but there was no way he could stay in that house with that man for another moment longer. 

Connor… He did things to Hank, things he couldn’t come to terms with especially if he was trying to return the omega and give him to someone else, the deed already pushed back to tomorrow to, “give the kid some time to recover.” Not only did he make the lieutenant insatiably horny, but he had a way of getting under his skin, those piercing brown eyes catching on to his thoughts and seeming to assuage his worries as soon as they came. 

Or maybe he was just fucking drunk, he told himself, sure to down a few shots of whiskey before stomping into the office and picking up the raid that Jonathan Goldworth was missing for his own omega related reasons. Perhaps he was just thinking too hard about it. After all, omegas were wired to get under an alpha’s skin, both parts compatible, or colliding, and needing something from the other, so it was reasonable to assume he’d seen exactly what he wanted when they crawled into bed together. He just couldn’t let that happen to himself, knowing it’d all go to hell the moment they got more involved with one another. So he went on the raid, got into that familiar environment that could steal his focus and energy away, and came back with evidence, the ticket to getting exactly what they’d need to stay unconnected in the most intimate way possible. 

Inside the same safe where they stored the confiscated red ice, they also happened to store the confiscated birth control tablets. Even more than red ice, these pills were sniffed out and searched for the moment someone merely suggested an omega may be in possession of one pill. Someone such as their neighbors who noticed they weren’t pregnant but sexually active, people on the street who noticed an omega going out more than others, or their mate’s parents who desired more alpha grandchildren and wondered what was taking so long.  All of them privy to the fact it was near impossible for an omega to obtain the drug on their own. Omegas, like Connor now, required someone who knew the dealers and a way to see them, or an individual who was allowed to purchase as they please, someone with a chance at no charges pressed to them even if they had red ice on their persons. In short, they needed an alpha to get it if it was going to work out. 

So, doing what he could to not get Connor knocked up on his first night, Hank shoved some tablets from various bottles into a small container in his pocket, being sure not to take one of the numbered bottles as he got what he needed and locked the case back up, climbing the stairs and thanking god they at least didn’t have to worry about this. That is… until the kid was someone else’s problem to take care of… Then that wasn’t Hank’s issue anymore. 

“Have your first analysis and report to me by tomorrow!” Fowler called after him as he tried to leave, halting Hank in his steps for only a moment, his posture giving nothing away except the usual exasperation. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Jeffrey,” He grumbled, waving as he walked out the door, deciding he might just spent tomorrow at a bar to avoid both the omega and case for another day. 

When he was out of the station, he looked at the small sticky note from his other pocket, recounting the list of tasks he needed to accomplish today. He needed to get more medical supplies and “probably” some groceries too, but that was all that was scribbled down, sadly. The man was all too aware that there wasn’t much else he could do to avoid Connor short of disappearing for the night, which would only make the pills less effective, so he would need to get back home in a somewhat hurried fashion. It was just a shame he couldn’t roll them under the door and leave again for a while, knowing even that would be difficult with the way that scent called him like a siren’s song. 

\------

Just as he hypothesized, Hank had little to no will to leave when he got home, his senses already searching for the smell and feel of Connor as he stepped out of his frosty car, supplies in hand. He couldn’t smell the other from out here, but he might as well have with the way he moved so quickly to the door, almost unable to lie and convince himself it was to fight the cold. There was just a natural call to the door and into the home, his body shuddering before he had a long breath of the smog and snow to composed himself. 

“I brought food…!” He called in a grumble, immediately knowing the omega was somewhere close, and experiencing more of his waning heat. 

He was bit worried when there was no immediate response from the incredibly obedient omega, setting the boxes and bags down to go look for his mate,concerned there could be something more dangerous. He quickly found him in the bedroom, strewn across the mattress but making a small effort to get up as Hank walked in, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, hello, Lieutenant. Thank you for dinner. I apologize for not responding…” Connor looked up at him with swirling eyes, a mix of melancholy and sexual need looming in the air above them. 

“It’s… not a big deal, Connor. Just… Come in the kitchen when you’re ready, so you can eat and I can clean up your wounds,” He answered, walking back out and turning on the tv to avoid the sight of those increasingly soaked boxers, the blood on his shirt, and small thread of release on the bed sheets. 

It gave him a hit of both guilt and desire, the two taking their turns cycling through the detective as he unpacked the bags, one full of medical supplies, and the other with their food, two burgers fries, and a pack of carrots he thought the healthier looking man might want as a snack. He knew so little about the other and what he might like, so he just grabbed the first thing he could think of, the snack he liked back in training. He supposed they’d have to talk about that, or find out another way what the brunet was into, thinking there was nothing wrong with making his stay here more comfortable… until he got another mate. 

A few minutes later, Connor emerged, looking worse for wear with the old bandages and the worry lines along his brow. It made the lieutenant wonder if he’d been a lot worse the night before than he thought, knowing he was drunk and probably didn’t remember everything the way he was supposed to. He sure hoped no though, or he knew he’d have quite the time getting drunk to try and forget the ensuing guilt about it. 

“You can just sit here and eat, and I’ll get started on the bandages. Looks like they all got a-a bit fucked over,” He said into the open, pulling the stool over for Connor and trying to seem as unperturbed as possible. After all, why should he care at all?

The brunet just did as he was told, sitting down with more grace in his wounded body than Hank had had in the past 20 years. It was almost robotic with how precise and still the man was, keeping his eyes blank and forward as he allowed the lieutenant to pull the shirt off again. Even how he ate seemed to be practiced and dare he say… delicate. Though it was nothing but a passing thought as he pulled the bandages away, biting his lip as he looked over the improvised cover already streaked with some blood. It was far too similar to the night before and how he’d lost control, making Hank grunt and clench the tube of salve in his fists while he tried to clear the memory. 

“Are you alright?” Connor asked when he’d swallowed his bite of food, looking down at Hank with worried and curious eyes. 

“Course. It’s just gonna take me a while to redo all this shit.” 

The brunet simply nodded, turning back to his meal and eating slowly, hips squirming as the alpha’s hands dipped just under the waistband to start wrapping the gauze. 

“Settle down. I won’t do anything nasty,” He mumbled, peering up at Connor and continuing his work, hoping that this kid would be able to get better soon. Seeing all of this blood and bruising did something to Hank’s instincts and tendencies, making him just a bit protective and upset on behalf of the other. It made him want to find those handlers to them and give them their own sets of wallops, show them not to touch his ma--someone he knew. If he could call their flimsy relations knowing each other at all. 

After what seemed like an eternity with Connor squirming into rather than away from his touch and recoiling, Hank letting his hands trail just a little more than he knew they should, and covering everything back up again, Hank finished with his handiwork and stood back up, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from his brow. It seemed the kid’s heat wasn’t quite finished yet, though both of them managed to have more control and sense this time around. 

“Alright, there ya go. Just be careful not to do too much.” 

“I will. Thank you for your help, Lieutenant.” 

Hank balled his fists at his sides with constantly being called by his title, one he didn’t feel he deserved anymore, and thought to correct Connor before he sighed and mumbled that it was no big deal, letting it go for now. He told himself the reason was that they didn’t need to get close when this was all just for a few days, but he knew it was about how nice his name sounded from the omega’s lips, and how it’d undo him that much faster if it became a regular. 

Instead, he slumped into the other stool, sliding over his own cold food and digging in, the weight of the packet in his pocket getting heavier by the moment. After Connor had finished his food and he was a bite or two away, he couldn’t ignore it any longer and finally turned to look back at the silent omega. 

“So… I… After last night, there are some things that come with what happened, so I… got you something,” He started awkwardly, not really liking to talk about sex and feeling all the more intimate with those glowing eyes honed in on him. 

“But you have to keep your mouth shut and be smart about it, or else it’ll all be fucked over, got it?” 

-01100011 01101111 01101110-

Connor’s emotions were all over the place as he sat through dinner. 

His body begged him to get as close to other as possible, unable to keep from leaning into the alpha from time to time, but his mind ringing with warnings; one telling him he could get pregnant if he wasn’t already, and another chiming that that could be what the alpha wanted and so he should be more trusting of his desire. So when the topic was brought up at the end of their painful silence, he clung to every word from Hank’s stammering lips. What could he be giving him? A present for it to commemorate, a punishment for not doing something, what? 

The answer was all the more surprising, the brunet’s mouth hanging open for a few minutes when he was handed the bottle of capsules, Hank speaking quickly to assuage the shocked expression on his face. 

“They’re not gonna fuck the mati--omega process up or anything…! And I know they’re technically illegal for you to have, but I think we both weren’t expecting this and need this sort of precaution in case anything can happen while you’re here.” 

Connor just nodded along quickly, overjoyed to hear that Hank was okay with waiting on children and relieved beyond belief that he had medication to help in case something had already happened. However, it did seem almost a slap in the face to his previously trained sensibilities, mind reminding him this was illegal and the sort of behavior the handling agency was very serious about. But then again… an alpha got it for him, maybe he could let it slide since it was from his mate and owner, the one he was bound and therefore loyal to. 

“They act to prevent and stop anything from happening, depending on what might be going on... inside, so just take one a day, and you should be good,” Hank added, still talking as Connor struggled to find the right response. 

He shouldn’t sound excited, but also couldn’t be callous and ungrateful, needing to show he appreciated the effort without seeming to always condone and support illicit behavior. 

A simple thank you is what he settled on, lips curling into a small smile as he looked at the lieutenant and grabbed his cup of soda. 

“I’m glad we’re both on the same page about procreation,” He added, taking a pill and downing it with the sip of carbonation he hadn’t had in years. “Not that I don’t want kids…! But waiting seems prudent.” 

Hank opened his mouth then closed it again, just nodding and giving a small smile before he got off the chair and threw their trash away, mumbling that that was good as he threw some carrots into the refrigerator.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“No, don’t worry about it. Just make sure to hide those somewhere.” 

“Alright,” Connor replied, also getting off of his stool and watching Hank for a moment before he looked around the home, wondering where to put it. None of it was his, so he felt like he’d be intruding if he put it anywhere, biting his lip and thinking of what wasn’t too personal but was still discreet. Surely the laundry room would be fine. When he was done, he came back into the living room, moaning quietly at the sight of spread open legs as he lounged on the couch, the line of a prominent arousal apparent from the side of the room. Not knowing where else to go and feeling an intoxicating draw to the other, he walked further into the room, eventually standing in front of Hank with a lightly heaving chest. 

“How else can I help?” He asked quietly, either needing a distraction or the permission to sit down next to him. 

Hank just stared for a moment, casually closing his legs and crossing his arms over his chest as he thought of an answer. 

“Well, the house is a mess, but it always is, so just sit down I guess.” 

Connor thanked him and nodded, sitting three inches away from Hank and feeling his breath catch when the alpha turned to face him. 

“Quit it with those pleasantries, will ya? You don’t always have to say it,” He muttered, raising a brow and looking the brunet up and down long enough to make Connor squirm. 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” He near whispered, scooting a bit closer when the man didn’t look away. “Any other requests I should oblige?” 

“Are you looking for a specific answer to that question?” 

“I merely want to be a good mate to my alpha,” Connor whispered, tilting his head up to look back at all of Hank’s facial features and seeing that he’d said the wrong thing when the expression went sour. 

“Like I told you last night,” Hank started, scooting closer and bringing a hand up to the back of the couch, near the brunet’s shoulder. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about you, Connor. So tell me, is there something you want?” 

“Perhaps I’m attracted to you, Lieutenant,” He whispered, his hand on the seat cushion trickling along to rest its fingertips against the alpha’s covered thigh. “Something about you… I find you fascinating.” 

There was obviously more than that to the matter like the way he felt like he belonged last night and could trust the man not to hurt him or demand things of his mind and body, feeling amazing with the pleasure and not just the satisfaction of his heat. But it would do nothing to say so now. That sounded quite sentimental, and what mattered more was what an alpha wanted, not how an omega felt. 

Hank chuckled with his words, shaking his head to himself for a moment and looking down at the hand as it touched him, not pushing it away but acknowledging it was there. Perhaps he didn’t love it being there, but at least he was letting Connor have a small touch, anything he could get on his skin for the moment. And after a long second, the alpha’s hand on the head of the sofa slid down, trickling to pool over the brunet’s bandaged shoulder, his thumb smoothing over the line of his neck, right where the omega had wanted to be bitten. 

“That so? You don’t even know jack shit about me,” He replied, quiet and soft rather than condescending as he would’ve expected; blue eyes glimmering against the lights of the tv. 

It was all Connor could do not to let his head fall back and his lips to part, his body moving closer as he nodded that he understood. 

“I know. But perhaps I’d like to.” 

“I don’t think you would,” The lieutenant assured him, the hand now sliding down Connor’s newly bandaged chest and thumbing at the top of his wet boxers. “It’s not worth it.” 

“Please, Hank.” The words came out a whisper, his hand against Hank’s thigh sliding to be on top and his fingers curling into the belt loops for just a brief moment. 

“Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll listen.” 

Both of their hands were playing with the tops of the other’s boxers or pants, not quite pulling them away but ready to do so as soon as they got the permission. With such an incentive, Connor gave in after a few moments, raising his hips against the man’s hand to slide the first inches of his length out of the fabric. 

“Get to know me.” 

Hank nodded and obliged, wrapping his calloused fingers around the length and giving it a few short tugs before he heard a phone ring obnoxiously from the table. 

-01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011-

“What the fuck is this all about, Ben?” Hank snarled as he slammed the car door shut, stomping over to Detective Collins and scanning over the snow-covered yard, now flooded with various people. 

He spent the entire car ride grumbling about getting called in late for bullshit reasons, pants tented and painfully tight as the feel of Connor still clung to his skin. The brunt was so eager yet earnest, trying to be considerate and never intrude on him, even when it was clear he was just as into it and almost as desperate as the omega was himself. And he’d said he wanted to get to know him. Hank knew it was probably just a segue into sex, but it seemed genuine, and the intimacy alone made his heart beat that much faster. Goddamnit, he was an old alpha pervert, just like all the others who couldn’t keep it in his pants or keep their head clear, wasn’t he? And now, he was horny and sexually frustrated, glaring at the other detective and tapping his foot as he waited for an answer. 

“So, got yourself an omega, huh?” He said off-topic, knowing smirk on his face as he smelt and saw the boner Hank had forgotten to cover with his coat in his haste. 

The Lieutenant rolled his eyes, mouth already opening to berate the other when Ben waved him in inside, warning of the smell before he got into the case. 

“Landlord said they hadn’t heard anything for weeks, so they decided to check in, and found this,” The other started, pointing to the carved open body, flies already feasting and maggots dug in to claim the decaying flesh. It smelled more than awful, the stench swarming through the congested air, open doors and windows doing next to nothing to clear it out for their heightened senses. If he wasn’t used to this after years of gnarly murders, Hank was sure he would’ve thrown up by now. At the very least, it helped tame his rut a little; the internal scream to go home dulled to a violent hum. 

“His name’s Carlos Ortis, an alpha with a record of aggravated assault and theft. Neighbors don’t see him much as he doesn’t go out much, known as more of a loner and hadn’t been seen for three weeks before this afternoon.” 

“And this couldn’t have waited til morning? Why did you have to call me?” 

“Well, the doors are locked from the inside. There’s been no sign of a breakin, and Ortis’ mate hasn’t been seen for over a month, so we believe this might be one of your cases.” 

Hank sighed, hoping it wouldn’t come back to that, those string of cases he was forced into taking, but here he was, thrown right into a crime scene with another case he’d have to add to an unread file. It almost felt like Fowler had constructed this himself to get him back into work. 

“And you’re sure no one stole his omega or they just left? We all know they’re mostly afraid of violence, and everyone wants one before they’re assigned. How could they wait out a heat like that?” There had to be some way this wasn’t going to be added to his docket, even if he could see it was almost inevitable at this point. 

“They could’ve, but there haven’t been any other prints except from the two of them,” Ben replied, heading towards the kitchen. “There are however, signs of struggle in the kitchen, and a knife over here, likely the murder weapon.” 

Hank followed a few steps behind, looking at the overturned furniture and hoarded garbage thrown about the house, thinking he could at least give himself a pat on the back for being more organized than this heap of shit the man called his home. 

“Any prints on the knife?” 

“None, so it’s looking like a premeditated attack, maybe like some of the others done by omega mates that you’ve been reading up on?” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Hank grumbled, looking at the blood splatters that started in the kitchen, trailing back like a morbid treasure map to the blood he’d passed by the door, and the scarlet script he hadn’t noticed in his grumbling horiness. 

Now it made more sense why they were calling him in, the surprised expression on Collins’ face over his questions on omega involvement adding up as he spotted the dribbling words above the rotting body. 

“I AM ALIVE” It read in shockingly straight letters, covering most of the wall and clearly talking about an omega. The words were right out of the news, similar to the few other cases that were broadcasted, with omegas standing up and claiming their autonomy in a violent fashion. Perhaps that could be Connor too, if the alpha wasn’t careful. After all, it was an omega “set on saving lives,” who took what mattered most of all. 

Maybe he should look into those cases. Just maybe. 

“Alright, so when will the coroner get here?” 

-01100011 01101111 01101110-

Connor cleaned up after yet another unsatisfying orgasm, moving as fast as he could since he didn’t want to be caught when the lieutenant got back. 

It was embarrassing, but he’d been using the alpha’s pillows and shirts to get off, burying his nose into the articles laced with the incredible smell and rutting against the bed covers as he’d work his fingers into himself as best as he could. The method wasn’t even scratching the surface of pleasure, and heightened the pain in his body, but the omega knew he needed to do something to get off before his mate got back, not wanting to bother him with more of his heat or drive himself mad once the alpha got back from his impromptu call. 

By the time he was about done cleaning, trying to wash the cum off the sheets for the third time that day, he heard the door unlocking and opening, knowing right away it was Hank with the scent that in the air, now coated in a foul stench he could only equate to a crime scene. He rushed to wipe up whatever else he could, hoping the alpha wouldn’t notice the dried trails of essence on his bed as he’d be too tired to take a closer look, and went into the living room to greet him with a small smile. 

“Good evening, Lieutenant. I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I was wondering where you’d like me to sleep tonight,” He stated, looking at the concentrated crease in the alpha’s brow and the glance he’d honed in somewhere behind Connor. 

The detective didn’t seem much in the mood for a discussion, shrugging and grabbing a few beers from the fridge before he slunk over to the couch, grabbing out a datapad and logging in slow enough for Connor to see as he struggled to use the touchscreen. 

“You can just take the bed. I’ve got lots of work to do, so I’ll crash out here,” The Lieutenant settled on saying, bright glow of the screen exposing his intense focus on whatever he was reading. 

The brunet had to admit, the smell, this new focus, and the fire behind Hank’s eyes made him curious about what the man was looking at, tempted to walk behind him and take a look, but he knew it wasn’t his place, omega’s strictly forbidden from police work and generally bothering their mates at all. So, he expressed that he understood and gave a quiet, “goodnight,” before heading back into the bedroom, a little relieved now that he had more time to tidy up and hide his shameful actions. Surely masturbation was illegal for omegas. It’s not as if a heat was theirs to choose how it should be handled. 

\------

It seemed when he finally managed climb in bed and find rest, Hank spit out a string of loud profanities from the other room, jostling Connor from sleep and commanding his new instincts to fall into line. Feeling the frustration reverberating through the home, and his heartbeat now thrumming loud in the omega’s chest, the brunet quietly slid out of bed, tiptoeing into the living room and walking a few steps closer to his mate, looking at the bottles and cans of beer littered over the floor, and Hank’s eyes glaring at his interrupting presence. 

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant?” He asked quietly, keeping eye contact with the other and trying to decipher what was wrong as they mumbled that the situation was right as rain, nothing to worry about at all. 

He might be a lowly omega, but with the way Hank’s emotions bounced around the house with his voice, he was positive there was in fact a problem. And maybe it was foolish to get involved, but Connor wanted to see if he could do something, anything, to lend a hand, keen on making a good impression with his alpha. 

“Just looking over some connected cases. Trying to find where some murdered alpha’s mate got off to, and if they committed the crime.” 

Connor couldn’t help raising a brow and being shocked into silence for a moment, surprised the Lieutenant would trust him with such information at a time like this, though his level of intoxication might’ve had a part to play. 

He’d heard about omegas deviating and rebelling, the handlers office receiving multiple complaints from the investigative bureau about it being their fault with the sorting, but he had no idea it’d gotten so… brutal. That omegas themselves were capable of such darkness, especially against their mates. He felt a wave of anger towards those deviants, not understanding their harsh behavior and wondering, like his parents had told him to, when they’d learn to keep to their place. His place now… 

“I’m sorry to hear that… Is there anything I can get you while you work on this?” He asked after a moment, knowing he needed to stay within bounds and not try to get involved where he didn’t belong, regardless of him dying to know what was going on and what tests they were trying to get to the answer. So much of his training was linked to tracking omegas, and it was only a matter of time before the mate would be lost or dead.

“No, I’ve had more than enough beers. I just need to get to the bottom of this…!,” Hank groaned, slumping back and rubbing his fingers over his temples. “There were no handprints on the weapon, signs of anyone else’s DNA on the body, and no evidence of a break-in, but there was contraband. It doesn’t add up.” 

“Was there any blood from the mate around?” 

“Only small traces near the bedroom, dried out, and probably from common beatings that man was known for,” Hank replied, running a hand through his hair and tossing a can behind the couch when he drained the last of its contents. 

Connor paced as he took in the new information, almost reaching for his lucky quarter before remembering it was back at home, collecting dust on his nightstand, and just twiddling his fingers instead. It did seem peculiar, like a vital part of the puzzle was missing, and he thought through his training when he remembered something he’d previously tossed away, running up to Hank’s side with adrenaline rushing through his body. 

“Ha--Lieutenant, can you tell me how long ago this happened??” 

Hank was surprised by his sudden closeness and ferver, doing a double take before he looked at Connor with skeptical eyes and answered that it’d been about three weeks. 

“By any chance, has an omega been by the scene?” 

“Hell no,” He scoffed, looking more skeptically at the brunet and crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would you even ask that?” 

“It’s been a long while since the crime, so it might be useless, but in handler training, they told us to separate omegas because they could send out a sort of beacon to one another, if they were at optimal stress. So if the omega happened to be nearby--” 

“Another could find them!” Hank finished, shooting up straight and wobbling to a stand, excited realization mirroring that of his mate before he thought more about it. “But if they’ve left, it might be useless… And it’s illegal to take an omega onto a crime scene… Can you pick up on each other’s blood??” He asked, whipping back around to look at Connor as he sorted through the logistics in his mind. 

“I don’t know for sure… But I’ve been told they’re good at picking up on each other’s signals, sort of like a protective thing since omegas are really weak on their own.” 

The Lieutenant nodded to each bit of information, taking a look at his watch and biting his lip before he glanced back over to Connor, mumbling something under his breath as he closed the datapad. While he searched for the keys in his pocket, he grabbed one more can of beer from the sleeve on the table, downing it in one go and gesturing for Connor to follow him to the car. 

“You can’t utter a word of this to anyone, even if some cops come by to investigate you for something else, you got it? You’re just going to stay in the car and tell me if you smell something, and that’s it,” Hank instructed, walking briskly to the rundown vehicle and waking the old engine before Connor was even all the way inside, clearly in a hurry to see if this worked. 

The brunet just nodded, silently praying that this would be helpful since he’d gotten the other to trust his potentially fruitless information. There’s no telling whether the detective would trust him again if he was wrong, the prospect of that alone worrying Connor as much as getting his mate in trouble for bringing an omega to the scene. There was no margin for error, not when there was so much on the line. 

His nerves were tense like the hard rock of the car’s music, each slam of the break in their speeding car reminding the omega of the break checks from the back of that traumatic truck ride and only leaving him more on edge. But he knew he needed to keep a clear head if he was going to help, taking deep breaths and focusing on the sight of snow instead of the strong worry and even stronger smell of Hank. 

“Alright,” The alpha told him, stopping suddenly and checking around for other cars before he turned to Connor with serious eyes, the ocean blue intense like a riptide. “You wait here. I’m gonna open the window, go out, then you tell me if you smell anything, got it?” 

“Got it.” 

The Lieutenant slid the passenger window open and left the car, kicking through snow in the yard, leaving Connor to sort through the various scents that barraged his newly heightened senses. Right away, he picked up on the corpse, far more intense than what clung to Hank’s clothes and coating most of the air. When his mate asked if he picked up on anything, he bit his lip and said he couldn’t be sure, trying harder as the other opened the house door and fanned it back and forth a few times to see if it made any difference. With his silence, the brunet’s mind trying to decide if that trigger of new fear was his own or someone else’s, the detective began making his way back to the car, going over to the open window and peering through. 

“Well, dammit, I guess we tried. I’m gonna take one more look, and then we’ll go back, alright?” Hank left before Connor could get a word in edgewise, lumbering back in the house and leaving the other to stew in his thoughts. 

He knew it was stupid, against both the law and what the Lieutenant had told him, but Connor couldn’t leave here without at least checking out this wave of apprehension he was getting like a pull on a knotted rope, taking a deep breath and sliding into the snow with bare feet and still soaked pajamas. He tried to walk as calmly as he could up to the front yard and halted at the front door. 

“Connor, what are you doing here?? You can’t be in the crime scene!” The detective growled, looking his mate over and quickly swooping him into his arms as he looked at the footprints he’d left behind. 

“I feel something Lieutenant. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I think I can pick up on the omega and at least find out which way they were headed out. I have to get a closer look though…” He answered quietly, keeping his eyes on the open door and trying to see where the invisible rope was pulling him, pulse all over the place as he could feel the alpha’s displeasure and concern beating against him. “And I can wear some of those extra shoe wraps from the box right there to cover my trail. Please.” 

“You’re positive?” 

“I promise, Hank. Or you can kill me for fucking it up.” 

He’d only meant it to express confidence in his capability, but Connor was sure he said the wrong thing, Hank’s brow drawn into a scowl as he yanked on the covers and gloves for him and set him back down on the ground, shaking his head and turning away. 

“Fine. Whatever, kid. Just be quick about it.” 

There was little time to go over why such a thing would bother the alpha, so the omega just nodded and headed inside, holding his breath and taking in the scene before him. 

The sight of death didn’t bother him, save for the context and the smell, but the words above it were chilling, stirring something deep inside Connor he had to shove down before it consumed him. None of it mattered, just if the omega did it and where they were now. So he stepped over the body and slid into the kitchen, a discreet dappling of blood on the counter calling his attention. 

It stood out from the rest of the gushing red on the floor somehow, brutalizing the omega with a wave of fear and making him flip around like someone would be there to hit him, seeing Hank was far away, but the chucked away bat was not. With that and the knocked over chairs and couch, Connor felt like this might be starting to add up, near running back to the Lieutenant and picking up on more of that different, minimal line of blood that seemed otherwise unnoticed. 

“Ha--Lieutenant! I think I know what happened!” He called, eyes glowing while Hank’s seemed more than skeptical. 

“Wha--How could you possibly know, Connor?” 

“There are small dots of blood all over the house, and they’re not from the alpha--” 

“Yeah, they’re the omega’s, but most of it’s been in the bedroom, probably just signs of the way this dick treated his mate.” 

“No, they had unfinished dishes…! And there are signs of  _ two _ broken plates in the kitchen, and no alpha would let that slide,” He stammered, leading the confused alpha back into the kitchen. “There are small drops of blood right here by the sink, by the dishes. I think his mate heard the first one break and punished the omega, which triggered a panicked response, drop of the plate, and missing blade.” 

“Your theory’s not totally crazy. I can see how he could’ve got the kitchen knife from the stand… The guy had a whole stack of red ice, so he could’ve been high and overpowered. And if he was wearing dish gloves...” 

“Yes!” He beamed, glad it was fitting together with the other evidence Connor didn’t get from a briefing. “And so I think he got him to stumble back into the living room, and that’s when he managed to get more hits in. I just can’t figure out how an omega would be capable of disobeying their mate like that…” To Connor, it seemed near impossible for someone of the weakly second sex to pull something so feral off, especially if they had no children involved they wanted to protect. But the answer didn’t matter with the way Hank’s eyes brightened with the two of them coming to a conclusion, his smell becoming sweeter and all the more invigorating for the omega. 

“Fuck, I think you might be onto something there, Connor. Do you know if you could still find out which way he went after?” 

“I can try…! I couldn’t get anything from outside though, so I don’t know if I can get us far.” Something in his gut was telling him that it wasn’t the way out he needed to find though. According to that internal snap of the string, it was something inside he destined to find, something closer than his logical sense was onboard to follow. “Just let me check the other rooms first…” 

After getting Hank’s approval, he went into the bathroom, noticing a… shrine of sorts and calling Hank to give this inscribed “RA9” and figurine more attention while the increasingly strong pull led him to a dead end in the hall, Connor concerned and confused as he tried to figure out the solution. 

The window was far too small for someone to fit through and couldn’t be slid open, and it was intact and covered in cobwebs, not a likely sight for escape. 

_ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck _ , He thought frantically, trying to understand the last missing link to something he was so close to discovering. With the sound of a moth knocking on the dim bulb overhead, Connor finally noticed the ripped off pull string for the attic and the small imprint of that same, calling blood, feeling like an absolute idiot that it’d taken so long to see that or the dust around the ladder that showed it was recently moved. 

“Oh my god,” He whispered to himself, knowing for certain that the omega was in the house and hoisting his bruised frame up the ladder to pry open the attic and make his way inside. 

It was eerily silent to the point of almost convincing the omega he was wrong, but he continued to follow that instinct, doing his best not to get distracted from the fear it was sharing, much like that time in the parking lot just a day before. Mustering his guts, he pulled away a drape that showed a peculiar shadow, disappointed with nothing before someone leapt out in front of him, covered in streams of blood and that same, overpowering smell of death. 

“Don’t turn me in! I’m an omega, too!” The other whispered frantically, rubber gloved hands defensively out in front of their abused, bruise-swollen body, eyes panicked and shaking Connor to their core for longer than he’d like to admit as someone who made it through apathy training with flying colors. “Please, just help me!” 

“Why did you kill your mate?” Connor couldn’t help himself asking, taking a few steps back like this deviant would contaminate him if he got too close. “That’s against every rule in the book.” 

“I-I-He was… He wouldn’t stop… I didn’t know what to do! Please, just help me out of here! Maybe we can--” 

“Help you? Why didn’t you just leave already, or turn yourself in? It’s been weeks…!” 

“And go where? I have nowhere to go,” They near sobbed, black eyes looking around as if there were still a threat and wrapping their shaking arms tight around their gaunt frame. “If you won’t help, will you at least not tell them I’m here??” 

There was a very real, very strong urge in Connor to do as the other asked, something in his heart aching for the other and calling for the omega softness in the brunet to oblige, but he couldn’t. He had a job to do, an alpha to impress, and that was far more important than just another omega whimpering for help like all the others he’d seen in the station. 

“It’s here, Lieutenant!” He called loud and clear, unable to look at the betrayal on this omega’s face for reason he could never admit. 

Perhaps he was a different kind of omega. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot woot! Collaboration and not hating each other XD These dudes really need to have a chat and actually get to know each other instead of trying to jack each other off or have sex lol but they'll get there... one day. 
> 
> Also, to anyone who fears mpreg and thinks I might have lied about it never happening, fear not. Mpreg will still never happen in this story. And also, if you wonder why Connor gets over his pregnancy scare/worry so fast (which yes he did), he had a major panic attack and was extremely stressed, which is why he looked sorta broken up when Hank gets back. And, I know it seems weird, but he really has so much faith in the system and his mate, and has kind of given up his ability to make that choice of when to have kids, so he kinda just goes with it and trusts that it will work (which it does lol). I just wanted to clear that up so people don't worry or think I'm crazy XD 
> 
> Hope you liked it and thanks for reading! ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> So... thoughts? 
> 
> If you liked it so far, let me know! And if you hate me, idk maybe don't tell me then haha. If people are into this, then I'll keep going, and if they aren't, I will still keep going haha albeit slower. 
> 
> Thanks from jumping on the crazy train and paying me a visit~
> 
> (Also, I cannot believe how much support this fic has gotten even in the first 24 hours!! Thank you so much!! <3)


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